tempus fugit

By ceridwen

'Tis the season

Gulls  get a notoriously bad press: they're noisy, messy, aggressive and ravenous. They're the birds we love to hate. Except that for a three-week season between late April and mid-May their eggs are in high demand from epicures and well-heeled diners. London clubs and restaurants traditionally serve them hard-boiled with celery salt. Their deep orange yolks are said to be  rich and creamy.
There's an annual charity event in the City of London where 600  movers and shakers of the financial world will pay £75 a head to schmooze over gulls' eggs and champagne: a net-working opportunity that raises funds for a good cause.
The eggs* are gathered by licensed collectors and can sell for up to £7.50 each. Very different from the days when sea-girt island and cliff-top   communities relied  on the annual  sea bird egg harvest to get them through the hungry gap, human lives sometimes being lost in the process.
I spotted this typical clutch of three when I went down to the coast for a quick blast of chilly air at the end of the day. They would have made a nice omelette but I decided to leave them be. I find them more attractive in the nest than on the plate.

*specifically the eggs of the black-headed gull although all gulls' eggs are equally edible and once sought-after.
More about them here, from Country Life of course.

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